


The Step After Denial

by Shockcakes



Category: Helltaker (Video Game)
Genre: Doggy Style, F/M, Humor, Sex, Teasing, back to back snarking, blatant self denial (?), full nelson position, men love goats right?, possible furry bait (?)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26878129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shockcakes/pseuds/Shockcakes
Summary: Lucifer and the Helltaker make the another step on the road to enlightenment.Then promptly take two backwards
Relationships: The Helltaker/Lucifer (Helltaker)
Kudos: 49





	The Step After Denial

**Author's Note:**

> This bandwagon is starting to turn into an entourage.

“I have a few conference calls to sit through today.”

“Mhm.”

“Malina has been making a fuss over some silly ‘toptable’-“

“Tabletop.”

“ _Boardgame_. So I’d figure she’d want you to take her to the store later.”

“Fine.”

“Did Cerberus get her morning walk?”

“I chased her through four backyards trying to get her away from the mailman.”

“Mmm. Poor you. You could use the exercise.”

“…Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“No? I have Judgement on dish duty for today, Pandemonica is attending to my call backlog, and-“

“Mirror.”

“…”

The edges of the CEO of Hell’s mouth lifted until they formed a crooked grin. The Helltaker’s face was unreadable behind his perpetually indifferent frown. She had always been able to spot those telltale pangs of annoyance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. My uniform has been ironed and pressed, hair combed, flawless as always. The same goes for my expertly maintained figure.”

If he knew what was good for him, he’d silence that wisecrack about her long-running pancake diet since she moved in.

The sunglasses-wearing stoic somehow kept his head on his shoulders for the umpteenth time. “You’re playing coy.”

“Baseless accusations.” She heard that sharp intake of breath no matter how silent he attempted to make it. “By all means, if you have a claim to make on my appearance then speak plainly. You mortals have a knack for being wishy-washy.”

Lucifer smiled deliciously, practically tasting the agitation in his twitching eyebrow. Exchanging empty pleasantries with her board of decrepit executives couldn’t compare to the hilarious torture she was having him sit through.

He sighed in defeat from their little game. The killjoy.

“You’re still a goat.”

She stared at him smugly. “Ohhh, is _that_ what you meant?”

The stare of frustration through his glasses suggested that he wasn’t buying her feigned ignorance. Their conversation on demons and shapeshifting had passed days ago and in a fitting display of pettiness, she kept her unsettlingly cutesy caprine shape.

“I was under the impression that you were so _allured_ by my current form that you didn’t think to ask me to change back.”

“Bullshit.”

Lesser men have had their souls set aflame for centuries on end for speaking to her with such tone. Their suffering offered her no higher amount of joy than his.

She’d heard talk like this before. Souls of men, shooting the breeze over such matters in between torture sessions. Fictional characters that so happened to take the form of anthropomorphic woodland creatures. She’d lost count of how many would preface their statements saying they weren’t so low as to admit those particular features were appealing to them, then return to talking about the movie with the talking lions and bedroom eyes.

And then she’d return them to the spike pits for thinking they had any right to enjoy things.

Not much difference in this case – though there was less impalement.

“We’ve been over this, haven’t we? It’s perfectly fine to admit that you have a…preference.” Lucifer said haughtily. Her floppy ears wiggled. She quite liked them.

“What’s it going to take to keep my new carpets from getting swamped with goat fur?” He ignored her quip. Helltaker was deft when it came to mixing words, she gave him that. He must have caught on quick that the phrase “I’m not a furry” had as much weight to it as Zdrada saying she’ll smoke outside.

“Aww can’t have me ruining the poor defenseless carpets now can you?”

He grunted impatiently.

She _could_ have coerced him into getting that pricey pancake mix she was eyeing at the store the other day, but it wouldn’t be as much fun if she merely let him off the hook. She did run Hell after all. She loved watching others squirm.

Preferably with an aged pinot noir in her hand.

“Fine. You want me to deprive you of your obvious preferences so badly then I’ll oblige, _if_ -“ Lucifer hung on that word for a few seconds of dramatic silence. “If you…do something for me.”

“You’re not getting that pancake mix.”

Her façade of imperiousness wavered briefly before returning. “Not _that_ , moron. I have some time to kill before my next meeting and I’d be far more attentive if I didn’t have this _itch_. Attend to it, and maybe I’d be willing to gift you with my illustrious neutral form again.” She smirked at him, folding her arms under her chest.

The bridge of Taker’s nose scrunched up. He was quick to deduce precisely where she was going with this. His arms crossed. Helltaker was at least somewhat graceful in defeat. Or perhaps that was his way of feigning excitement like the degenerate he denied himself to be. She’d find out sooner or later.

“If it keeps you from nibbling on my best sheets.”

“Oh let that _go_ already.”

\--

So much for her ironed clothes.

The neatness in Lucifer’s “work uniform” was thrown to the wind once her jacket was unceremoniously peeled off on thrown to the floor. Her pants were given about as much consideration.

Helltaker was blindsided, yanked to be laid onto his bed.

She was no sex deity but a few gloss overs of Modeus’s personal “library” taught her what she needed to know. Lucifer straddled his lap, her perky chest on display through her half unbuttoned shirt and lacy black undergarments. She studied his face, searching for any attention he might’ve given to her oddly addictive chest fluff.

He wanted to put his hands on it. She could _feel_ it.

His shirt was ripped apart like an open wound and her hands teasingly ventured south. “Make that face all you want, I know you love this.”

Helltaker grunted.

“My fur must feel _heavenly_ against your skin, hm?”

He grunted again, not even offering a wry comment on her ironic wordplay. She bet he thought he was being slick but he was only delaying the inevitable.

“Look, I’m even wagging my tail-“

“I wonder if Cerberus wants to chase the mailman again.”

Her expression soured. Fucking Spoilsport. “ _Fine_.”

No teasing words were exchanged as Lucifer fished his stupid cock out of his stupid pants. Half flaccid. He was really committing hard to this denial.

Time to fix that.

Her fingers went to work, absorbing his natural warmth upon wrapping around his length. He stood at full attention soon after, to the point where it might’ve been unfair to chalk that up to her adorable goat face.

Goat or not, the wetness between her legs, staining her panties, signaled she was ready to move things along.

Lucifer readjusted her undergarments, allowing awaiting lower lips some room to breathe and drip freely. Helltaker was unsurprisingly passive, his poker face as unmoving as how it always was when they did the deed. Perhaps he was shooting for a record or something. Lucifer could’ve said she was offended by his lack of reaction and she wouldn’t even be in the wrong.

“Well don’t look _too_ excited.”

“I’ll try.”

She voted not to let his snipping leave too many frown lines. After all, _he_ was the one making a fool of himself on the topic at hand.

Her waist lowered until properly hilted. She didn’t know about the other tenants under his roof but Lucifer could permit herself to say his equipment was sufficient to her needs. Of course, she wouldn’t say that outright. He already earned the privilege of her residence within his house for however long he can keep the pancakes coming. Mortals already had a problem with getting swelled heads all the ti-

“Did you just bleat?”

She immediately clasped her muzzle. The movement her throat performed was so instinctual that she didn’t even register until after the fact.

How studious of him to pick up on it.

“Why? Does it turn you on?”

A solid minute of glares and suggestive glances passed before her hips raised from his lap. Lucifer slowly brought herself back down, letting a far more impassioned bleat escape her mouth.

It was difficult for him to hide his narrowed eyes behind his glasses. The eyebrows gave it away. “ _Stop_.”

“ _Make me_.”

Taker had an interesting way of interpreting her retort. There were a variety of fitting options to choose from; a snappy comeback, shoving a pillow in her face, or even another of his many grunts of agitation. She wouldn’t even condemn him to an eternity of suffering from one of those. Curious that he went the way of pinning her down onto her stomach, utterly pounding the _shit_ out of her from behind.

Joke’s on him. She would only bleat louder.

She would feel those hot, powerful slaps from his hips crashing into her behind. They jostled her ample cheeks before his hands fell onto them. As she expected, he was massaging and caressing them while his lower half went on autopilot.

“You mortals have such predictable tastes.”

Fingers gripped the sheets. It was a monumental effort to not start to nibble on the poor defenseless linen. She didn’t need to hear him whine about her…tendencies a second time.

Just the fact that he didn’t attempt to grip her wagging tail warranted a one way trip to Judgement’s Sin Machine. But she relented. For now.

Lucifer went with the flow, letting her body be rocked to his obscene rhythm. Each thrust sent his praiseworthy length barreling through her insides and out again in a painfully addicting tempo. She would know. The number of souls she saw damned due to excess certainly wouldn’t deny that.

He was _moving_. His hands dug into the sides of her ass, leaving faint prints over the pale white fur. Violent, almost animalistic pumps shamefully made her cheeks jolt with the motions of his hips clapping behind her. Lucifer was euphorically burying every delicious moan into the covers. He was going to have to settle for drool on his sheets instead of bite holes.

She lost track of time – a common occurrence that came with being an ancient entity nearly as old as the concept itself – needing to reassure herself that their session began a few minutes ago rather than a century.

Like coming down from a high, she was brought back to reality when the thumping at her core unceremoniously paused.

“I don’t seem to recall saying you could st-aaAAAAHP!!”

The sudden weightlessness caught her _slightly_ unawares. There was no feasible way for Lucifer to be put in a position of “vulnerability” no matter how much muscle this lucky speck of a human had at his disposal. It didn’t matter that her legs were now adjacent to her head. She could break his armlock at any time.

She merely allowed Helltaker to hammer into her pussy via full nelson.

That line of spittle on the side of her mouth was due to some other ungodly reason. For sure.

His resumed efforts bought Lucifer’s second thoughts on disciplining that sinful inaction prior. She felt his spear much more lucidly this way, reaching deep past her walls with a deep-rooted intensity. Her entire body moved per his motions.

The wet sloppy noises rang with greater volume, rear cheeks bouncing and slapping against his waist. It was powerful. Ferocious even. He was fortunate that she wasn’t at full strength to brush it off. It wasn’t like being the unfettered CEO of _Hell_ meant that one single mortal had a chance to push her so close to the brink. Deliberately.

In a show of good sportsmanship, she allowed a minor squeal to leak through her gritted teeth as she orgasmed.

Out of pity.

A pity orgasm.

No other reason whatsoever.

He must have accepted her _intentional_ throwing of their unspoken competition as it was only then that she felt his throbbing. Behind her back, Helltaker’s chest expanded and shrank with his shaky breaths. She knew that through it all, her tail was sure to be wagging behind her, tickling his stomach. He was probably into that.

Her womanhood shook off her post-climax exhaustion, thankful for the almost non-existent refractory periods a demon like her was blessed with. 

Lucifer knew what to expect when the thrusting stopped. If there was a single word that her lust addled mind was able to describe his finishing performance, it would undoubtedly be—

“ _Exquisite_.”

He was panting behind her like a wild dog, thick ropes of white shooting into her snatch with each passing second. In time, his shameless hold on her would give.

As they lay on the bed, letting the afterglow grace their minds with cognitive function, Lucifer was the first to speak.

“Well. That seems like a proper confession to me if I’ve seen one.”

Helltaker was lying on his back, his arms crossed and lax on his abdomen. The only thing missing was a freshly lit cigarette. Or at least it would be had he not caught on that his “roommates” were already hazardous to his lifespan. “What are you talking about?”

Lucifer scoffed, her head propped on a hand while she maintained a pose that would leave even the least impressionable with some conflicting thoughts. “We’ve never gone at it _that_ hard until now.”

“You always say that.”

She frowned sourly. “…Since goddamn when?”

“Azazel recorded the last three times.”

“ _She wh_ -” A sharp inhale through her nose signified that she was veering off-topic. There would be more than enough time to pluck the nosy angel’s wings after she’s properly proven her point. “What’s it going to take to admit what you’ve been denying for so long?”

A pregnant silence graced the two before the Helltaker’s head angled to look her in the eye proper.

“…Fine. You want the truth?”

Lucifer’s eyebrow raised with intrigue. “Only for _your_ peace of mind.”

What was that emotion she detected on his face? The slight sense of defeat in his expression? The brief pause as if to steel himself from the blow he was about to take to his pride? The twinge of humiliation that-

“Those pancakes are going straight to your ass.”

“…”

The Helltaker seldom smiled. The demons (plus one angel) had all grown used to his mouth a completely neutral line. That precedent served to make his current smirk feel all the more disgustingly unnatural.

Suddenly Lucifer was feeling a bit peckish.

“Hey-NOT THE SHEETS!”

\--

Zdrada shut the door before the now growing ruckus on the other side could attract any more horny eavesdr-

_…_ Unwelcome company.

The chain-smoking wretch rolled her eyes while she silently strode back to the living room.

_Freaks._

She opted to let the drag of her cigarette dull the heat that persisted between her legs for the past however long she was lingering around the half-opened door.

Out of all the members of the gang to greet, Hell’s secretary was surprisingly the one she chose to pester just as she was begrudgingly informing her boss’s business partners of yet another meeting delay.

“Yo, Pandy.”

The tired demon was running on fumes, evidenced by her finger breaking side not acting on that ridiculous nickname. If she was thankful to get off the line from the dronings of an irate demon windbag, she wasn’t energized enough to show it. “Hm?”

“So uhh,” she cleverly hid the hesitance in her body language behind a drag of her cigarette, “…got any shapeshifting tips?”


End file.
